II


It is a common custom to refer to the usual complication between one
man and two ladies, or one lady and two men, or a lady and a man and
a nobleman, or--well, any of those problems--as the triangle. But
they are never unqualified triangles. They are always isosceles--never
equilateral. So, upon the coming of Nevada Warren, she and Gilbert and
Barbara Ross lined up into such a figurative triangle; and of that
triangle Barbara formed the hypotenuse.

One morning old Jerome was lingering long after breakfast over the
dullest morning paper in the city before setting forth to his down-town
fly-trap. He had become quite fond of Nevada, finding in her much of
his dead brother's quiet independence and unsuspicious frankness.

A maid brought in a note for Miss Nevada Warren.

"A messenger-boy delivered it at the door, please," she said. "He's
waiting for an answer."

Nevada, who was whistling a Spanish waltz between her teeth, and
watching the carriages and autos roll by in the street, took the
envelope. She knew it was from Gilbert, before she opened it, by the
little gold palette in the upper left-hand corner.

After tearing it open she pored over the contents for a while,
absorbedly. Then, with a serious face, she went and stood at her uncle's
elbow.